


Every chain on me

by towardsmorning



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Canon Character of Color, Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 00:56:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/628456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towardsmorning/pseuds/towardsmorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock waits for Nyota in his quarters, as he always does on days like these.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every chain on me

**Author's Note:**

> One day I thought, where the fuck is all the fic of Uhura being Spock's domme? And then I went, SHIT, I HAVE TO WRITE THAT NOW. Then I saw [this quote](http://fuckyeahharrydresden.tumblr.com/post/8305930726) and [this photoshoot](http://endquestionmark.tumblr.com/post/39147927559/gamble-what-the-shit-is-this-photoset-pls-girl) of Karl Urban and. Look. I don't even know where this shit came from, OK? It's porn, which I hardly ever write, and also weird quasi-BDSM? I wrote it at 6am, my mind goes unusual places.

Spock waits for Nyota in his quarters, as he always does on days like these. They have a routine now, though an irregular one, and one which has not yet had time to become quite predictable yet. Once he's inside he locks the door and tells the computer to allow Nyota access when she requests it, strips to the waist, and settles on his knees in the middle of his bed without ceremony. Both wrists settle behind his back loosely, crossing over, and he bows his head, though there is nobody there to witness either thing yet. His mind slowly begins to fade out as he remains like that, first at the edges and then the whole of it going white and clean as he holds his wrists still and keeps his head turned down, neck exposed.

Spock breathes and waits without particularly noting the passage of time.

When he hears the door slide open and Nyota's footfalls, he wills himself not to look up. His breath catches for one second, but he steadies himself before he believes she is within hearing distance. After eighteen seconds, during which Nyota locks the door and removes her shoes, she crosses the short distance to his bed, to him. He can see her in his peripheral vision, a shadow in the corner of his eye, indistinct and tempting in a way that unsettles him every time it happens. Spock counts inside his head to the rhythm of his breathing and Nyota remains at his side, apparently watching him, though from his current vantage point he cannot tell with accuracy.

The sudden shock of her hand closing around one wrist makes him breathe in sharply. The hand twitches, and his eyes close, then open again as she releases the hand. The cool skin of her palm seems to leave an imprint after it moves away. He breathes, and waits, and holds himself as still as possible until a finger hooks itself under his chin and raises it to meet her eyes, and when he does he does not breathe for another three and a half seconds.

"Steady," she says quietly, and he controls his exhale, fights the urge to swallow, and presses his wrists tighter together, the pressure calming. It would be easy to ask her to bind them, he thinks, rather than to rely on his own control. It would be easier to remove the temptation and hand it over to Nyota instead. Easier. Less satisfying. Spock often wonders if he is attempting to prove a point during these sessions, and has yet to produce an adequate answer.

"Up," she tells him, voice quiet but clear in the near-silent room, and he stands, facing her. After a moment she kisses him, light and soft, and he lets himself lean into it slightly, closes his eyes. When she doesn't object to either action he deepens it, only stopping when Nyota pulls away and presses at his shoulder, skin-to-skin contact making him lean into her touch.

He slowly lowers himself onto his knees at her prompting, briefly grateful for the fact he did not strip entirely when he settles onto the hard floor. Nyota is still in her uniform, and she divests herself of it efficiently while he waits, removing first the dress and then her undergarments without fuss, his eyes following as she unsnaps her bra and pushes her panties down. His fingers itch, and Spock wants to run hands over her stomach, thighs, hips, but he restrains himself with some effort. The expression on her face when he has finally controlled himself enough that he can glance back up is faintly amused and he thinks also impatient, though his ability to discern either is less than optimal.

Instead of touching, he leans forward to bite lightly at her hip, exhaling and repeating the action when he hears her groan lightly. A hand settles on top of his head and pushes him insistently towards the right after a moment; Spock takes the hint for what it is and moves forward to press his mouth to her folds, rewarded with the hand on his head tightening in his hair and another groan, louder this time. The itch in his fingers is back, so he distracts himself by licking her clitoris, then sucking at it, closing his eyes and focusing on cataloguing every noise she makes in response, committing them to memory as he goes. This is the third time they have done this specifically; he knows that the slightest, most careful scrape of teeth will make her gasp sharply, that moving to instead push his tongue inside her will make her twitch and whimper, that withdrawing will make her keen and drive her to a frustration that makes him resuming sweeter, makes her more vocal. Spock bites marks into the skin of her thighs and is rewarded with hisses and a broken exclamation of " _Spock-_ ", and he presses both wrists against his back so hard that he feels an answering burn all the way up his arms, feels it more keenly than his arousal.

By the time she climaxes he has his eyes clenched tight shut against the overwhelming desire to touch her and the persistent ache and when she cries out, he sees answering stars behind his eyelids despite being nowhere near orgasm himself, burying his face against her thigh as she shudders through it. After an endless moment of silence broken only by her erratic breathing Nyota slides onto the ground and he opens them again, leaning against her shoulder this time. She has a faint sheen of sweat covering her body, her hair coming out of its neat ponytail and her eyes blown darker than even their usual deep brown. Spock becomes acutely aware that he has yet to remove the rest of his clothing as she smiles in satisfaction at him, warm and open.

"Well done," she murmurs, reaching around to stroke his wrists again. Though expected, he startles a little at both, not unpleasantly. Pausing a moment, she moves the other hand down to unbutton his pants, smile broadening at the huff of breath he cannot quite restrain. "Allow me," she says, hand sure and steady as it moves up and down, not bothering to fully remove his clothes. This part, Spock feels, is more of a formality, though a very enjoyable one- she strokes him gently until he comes, already on edge, and his mind goes blissfully white again as her hand tightens on his wrists.

Afterwards, he rests his head against her shoulder and brings his arms around to rest on her hips, still on the floor, and this time, he counts her breaths instead, feels her heartbeat returning to normal through his fingertips, and is content.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from My Blood by Ellie Goulding.


End file.
